(For purposes of clarity, I’m choosing to refer to the writer with the questions as the “author.”)

So, let’s get going.

The author begins his line of questions with asking for evidence that Christianity “works.” This immediately presents two issues. The first is to arrive at a reasonable definition of Christianity and the second is to determine what “works” means. While the author implies at the end of his questions that complex answers somehow make Christianity unavailable to most people, there is no way to get around defining our terms if we are to make sense of the whole thing. It does no one any good to just skirt over very deep topics with simplistic answers.

The author quickly provides his own assumption of how to calculate whether Christianity works and that is by using the “metric” (measurement) of people being good.

I will be accused of splitting hairs here but these are really big hairs. And here’s what I mean. We can ask, on the one hand, is it the primary purpose of Christianity that people be good? Or, we can ask, if it’s not the primary purpose, is it certainly an expected outcome? These are related but different.

Either way, we need to pause for a minute to consider a fair definition of Christianity before moving on.

Christianity is a religion, which means it’s a way that people have organized their beliefs and created all sorts of structures in order for that organization to exist. This is true for all religions and also such things as governments that organize around such beliefs as the importance of freedom or equality.

So, Christianity is mankind’s attempt to create structure around a core set of beliefs. It’s important to give at least a brief summary of what those beliefs are in order to determine if the belief system “works” or not. You might be surprised to know how different groups claiming they are Christian will both agree and disagree as to what those are. But, for the purpose of brevity, I’m going to exclude some of the ones on the fringes because they don’t have that many adherents, so the author’s questions won’t really apply.

Fundamentally, Christians agree that there is one God and he is all powerful, all knowing and has no beginning and end (Alpha and Omega). This God is the single greatest creative force behind all things and created man “in his image,” (however we interpret that). God loves all people unconditionally, however he is also a God of justice and will ultimately judge all people. God is actually three “persons” in one: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. (This gets dicey and is the source of more than a little puzzlement.) For our purpose here, I’m not going to get into that other than to say that the Son part of the Trinity came to life (was incarnated) here on earth as a man named Jesus in the person of a 1^st century Palestinian Jew. Christians believe he was completely God and completely man. They believe that he was born of a virgin, lived without sin, was baptized as a grown man by his first cousin John (not the apostle John) and went into a three year public ministry, during which time he taught about what he called the Kingdom of God and all sorts of related things. This teaching and his life led him to be accused by the powerful religious leaders of the day as a blatant blasphemer and threat to the order of things, for which he was arrested, tried and sentenced to death by crucifixion. His followers believed he was the long-awaited Jewish Messiah or Savior of the people of Israel. They were shocked when this Savior died. Christians believe he was entombed but on the third day the body disappeared. They believe he was actually resurrected, meaning that he “survived” death and was present to his immediate followers in bodily form. This was beyond astonishing. They believe he died to take away the sins of the world (a gigantic topic in itself), which is what he told them, and that belief in him was the key to eternal life. Christians believe that evil exists and has its roots in the supernatural world. Christians believe in a thing called Free Will, which means we have many choices in this life and God will not get in the way should we choose to ignore or reject him. We have to willingly submit to him. Christians believe that there are consequences for our choices. Protestant Christians basically believe that the only way to be saved is by God’s grace through Jesus, the Christ. Roman Catholics have a mixed history on this. There is, of course, a whole lot more but that’s some of the basics.

So, what does any of this have to do with being good?

For starters, Jesus never explicitly said or even implied that he was there so that people would be good. He said he was there to show them who God was and to advise them on what to do about that. He said he was there to usher in a new age and that the long-promised kingdom of God had fully arrived. His ministry was structured around demonstrating this fundamental reality, of which there had been signs throughout the history of the Hebrew people but which he needed to clarify. This kingdom of God thing is not an easy thing to understand, primarily because it rejects the fundamental standards by which mankind has organized our collective lives. Which is why the Gospel record is full of Jesus trying to explain concepts from many directions (via parables, stories and riddles), thereby breaking down old perceptions so his reality could blossom.

All of this being said, let’s jump over to the core principles that underlay all of Jesus’ life and teaching. It is only here that we can begin to grasp what “good” actually means.

Jesus boldly said we need to pay attention to two things with everything we have. Two things. With everything we have. That’s it. All the rest is secondary. They are to “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your soul and all your mind” and to “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

Pause. Nothing like setting a high bar.

I surmise that if someone were to ask him then point blank, “How do I know that I’m doing good?”, he’d say with a caring smile, “Didn’t I just answer that?”

A very telling story highlights this issue. It’s found in the Gospels of both Matthew and Luke and recounts an exchange between Jesus and a very rich man. The man asks, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Now, before we go further, we should relate this to our author’s question. The implication is that the objective of Christianity is for people to be good. The corollary to that is that God will reward good people by granting them eternal life. But, let’s listen in on the rest of the exchange.

Jesus replies, “Why do you call me good? No one is good – except God alone.” Jesus went on to advise the man to keep the commandments, to which the rich man replied, “All these I have kept since I was a boy.”

Let’s hit the pause button again. The commandments, purportedly passed by God to Moses, were a prescription for the most important things God wanted his people to live by. In other words, this was a way for them to be good, among other things. The rich man was saying, “I’ve been as good as it’s possible to be, does that mean I’m in?”

To which Jesus replied, “You still lack one thing. Sell everything you have and give it to the poor and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”

Wow. Talk about cognitive dissonance!

Let’s return to the Gospel record and the continuation of the story.

“When he heard this, he (the rich man) became very sad because he was very wealthy. Jesus looked at him and said, ‘How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God! Indeed, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.’

 “Those who heard asked, ‘Who then can be saved?’ Jesus replied, ‘What is impossible with man is possible with God.’ Peter said to him, ‘We have left all we had to follow you!’ ‘Truly I tell you,’ Jesus said to them, ‘no one who has left home or wife or brothers or sisters or parents or children for the sake of the kingdom of God will fail to receive many times as much in this age and in the age to come in eternal life.”

There is so much here to unpack that I’m going to have to let go. However, here’s the thing. Jesus is clearly being asked the key to eternal life … the measurement by which we will be judged. And, just as clearly, it is not just being good. We can be perfectly good (follow all of the rules, act morally, help the poor, etc..) and that’s still not good enough.

Now, it would be a big mistake to think Jesus told this story to convince us to enter a life of complete poverty. Nor, is this a message that we should literally leave our families. Instead, this is a story about what Jesus believes is the most important thing and it’s not our level of personal wealth, nor is it about commitment to our families. Not by a long shot.  Jesus is a master story teller and offers us layers and layers of things to consider.

The key to this story and its relevance to the line of questions we’re considering is the importance assigned to surrendering everything to God. If we are to believe Jesus, we are called to put nothing higher than God, to let nothing get a hold of our hearts and minds more strongly than God. If there’s anything like that, we need to lay it aside, to pull it back as a priority. No thing and no one is to come before God. Jesus then promises that all of those who listen to him “with ears to hear” and who will choose to follow him, will learn what he means by the Kingdom of God and the kind of life we should lead. He counsels that many will hear him but not understand truly what he is asking. Hopefully, we will come back to that later when I try to respond to the author’s final point.

At this point, I will briefly return to the question of whether being good is an objective of being a Christian. And, to that I’ll give an unequivocal yes.

While our purpose is to love God with all we have and to love our neighbor as ourselves, we all know that this is virtually impossible. I mean, come on. Love God more powerfully (times 100 for sake of argument) than we dearly love our spouses and children, for instance? Love everyone else, even our enemies … that awful foul guy living down the street or that back-biting co-worker or politician we think is horrendous? What is Jesus getting at? Is he just a glassy-eyed idealist selling snake oil? Of course, some would say yes. On the other hand …

So, yes, the standard is impossibly high which draws the Christian to two conclusions. First, Jesus provides us an example of how to live and as we draw closer to him through continual surrender, we are able to grow in both our desire and ability to love God and others. Secondly, we can only do this with his help, a thing that is supernatural and not in accordance with the regular laws of this world. Once again, the key is surrender. It requires an act of will that many, many people are not willing to make. It is obvious that even people who profess to be Christians do not do what is being asked of them, making it clear that both their desire and ability to love withers. This fact raises a series of other concerns that skeptics are rightfully able to raise but that I’ll not address right here. Maybe later.

My friend Tony told me the other day that all love comes from God because he is Love and is the font of all love. He would argue (as many Christians do) that this is a fact whether people believe it or not. In other words, true love is a sign that points to God’s existence and character. We will need to explore how this love should be manifest in our lives in order to come to grips with the question of whether or not Christianity is working.

But before we go there, let’s dive more deeply into some of the common reasons why these questions are being raised in the first place. That’s where we’ll begin the next segment.

I’m a big fan of transparency. And, let’s add to that humility. Is there anyone out there who’d like to argue that the things that really matter are incredibly simple?

One of the things that’s great about being both a student and a teacher is that I’m constantly amazed by both the things I do know and the things I don’t. And, I’m not afraid of either one. I think they go hand in hand very nicely.

Which brings me to this topic, prompted by a series of excellent questions I recently received from a very thoughtful person. They are tough and don’t deserve simplistic answers. When someone’s belief system is being questioned (a healthy thing), it’s important to give reasonable answers or to admit that we just don’t know. Of course, it’s a two-way deal. Anyone who asks questions of another’s beliefs must expect to respond in similar fashion when the questions come back.

Here are the person’s questions, in order:

(1) What evidence is there that Christianity works?

(2) Is there a higher percentage of good people now amongst humanity than there was 2000 years ago?

(3) Is the percentage of good people greater amongst Christians than non-Christians?

(4) If you think the answers to these is “yes,” I would like to hear why you think so because I don’t see it.

The questioning continues.

If the answers are “no,” then one must ask the question, is it just a fraction of people who “really get it” who turn out better? And, if so, what good does that do? Why would God make it so difficult to succeed for so many people? Or is it just about the struggle, in which case that sound like Hinduism? And, if the answers are really complicated, then de facto they are not available to most people, because most people can’t deal with anything complex (to some degree because they are taught to believe, not question, and not think for themselves).

Ok, then. Guess this puts me in the hot seat! We’ll just have to see where this goes.

I’ll begin by admitting that this line of questions is one of the great arguments against the truth claims of Christianity. The questions are very reasonable and I’m actually grateful for the chance to address them, however poorly I end up doing so. I’m not sure how my response will come out as the questions are related. I may end up grouping some of them together. We’ll have to see.

The first set asks for evidence that Christianity, in two full millennia, has done anything significant to increase the amount of good in the world. Additionally, the questioner asks for evidence that Christians reflect a higher number of good people than non Christians. In other words, does Christianity actually work?

I’m going to struggle with answering these in any kind of concise manner. I’m afraid that trying to frame a response briefly will prove very dissatisfying while responding in the length I believe the questions deserve will prove too unwieldy. Hopefully, I’ll explain why this is as part of my response to the final conclusion above.

Stay tuned.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Did anyone come across some truly good news today? And, I don’t mean of the partisan kind where your people won out over their people, which is the basic formula for so much news in the seesaw battle for our hearts and minds.

I mean the kind of news that’s both large scale and something everyone can cheer about.

So, I came across an article entitled, “The Best Global News You (Probably) Haven’t Heard.” And, no, it was not in a commonly read source most people would access.

The question is whether extreme poverty around the world is increasing or decreasing.

In 2014, 84% of Americans were unaware that it has been steadily decreasing and a full two thirds believed it was increasing.

I quote from an article published on OurWorldinData.org.

As poverty researchers Max Roser and Esteban Ortiz-Ospina explain, since around 1970 we began “living in a world in which the number of non-poor people is rising, while the number of poor people is falling. According to the estimates . . . there were 2.2 billion people living in extreme poverty in 1970, and there were 705 million people living in extreme poverty in 2015. The number of extremely poor people in the world is three-times lower than in 1970.”

The rate of extreme poverty reduction began to increase even faster after 1990. As Roser and Ortiz-Ospina note,

In 1990, there were 2 billion people living in extreme poverty. With a reduction to 705 million in 2015, this means that on average, every day in the 25 years between 1990 and 2015, 137,000 fewer people were living in extreme poverty.

On every day in the last 25 years there could have been a newspaper headline reading, “The number of people in extreme poverty fell by 137,000 since yesterday.” Unfortunately, the slow developments that entirely transform our world never make the news.

I’m attaching a graph that supports this.

Now, this is cause for us to rejoice, while not becoming complacent. We can celebrate this fact while acknowledging that extreme poverty still exists and that poverty of any kind is something all of us should pay attention to.

It is also a place where Christians and non-Christians who care deeply about others can join arms in a battle for good.

Of course, Jesus calls all of us to serve the poor and his example of humility and compassion is certainly a standard for us to consider. Interestingly, he not only calls our attention to the materially impoverished but he uses the very beginning of his most famous teaching, the one we know as the Sermon on the Mount, to say, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:3) In other words, poverty is often more than meets the eye.

What to take from this? I’ll put it out there that we have an obligation to seek out those who are suffering privation and to do something about it. This means those who are hungry and without basic needs. It also means those who suffer in other ways, through violence and oppression. And, it means we should keep our eyes and ears open to those around us who are weakened by the forces of life.

Finally, we should wake up in the morning, giving thanks for good news like this while also rolling up our sleeves to take action anew each day.

Are each of us ready to answer the question: “What did you do this week to help reduce poverty?”

I was just looking at this lithe little tree we have in our newly-landscaped front yard. It’s grown a lot in the two years since we planted it. It sways in the breeze, light glinting off of its gentle leaves, as the afternoon turns to dusk.

The gold of the light melds with the green of the tree and it’s lovely.

I recall meeting a small child named Amelia this morning, all of maybe 18 months. Held in her momma’s arms, she had a good hold on part of a blueberry muffin. For some reason, she held it out as an offering to women who approached to coo over her. Men, not so much. That’s ok. She was a beautiful little girl, large eyes open to the world around her.

Beauty arrives in surprising places so long as we make ourselves available. In the midst of so many storms, are we making ourselves available?

I’ve had two conversations in the last several days about what we might call “religious experience.” This specific topic was not a major part of either of these conversations, nor was there mention of my own. But, I felt called to address it here and see where that leads.

I’m immediately reminded of an incident from 1978. At that time, I was a brand new teacher, having just improbably arrived at the University of San Diego High School (Uni as it was called and Catholic) as a member of the Religion Department. Now, this was bizarre on so many levels that I still shake my head at the wonder of it. Aside from the fact that I had no training as a teacher and no religious upbringing and that I’d only been an official Catholic for about a year and that, to a degree, because I saw being Catholic at the time as a means to end and that I beat out twelve other candidates for the position and that I hardly knew anything at all about Roman Catholicism as I’d only just begun a masters in Religious Studies at the adjacent Catholic university, I guess this was completely understandable. (I really got the job for a couple of good reasons, not the least of which was because the chair of the Social Science Department had seen my name and remembered that she was the graduate assistant for a top professor in the UCSD History Department and she’d read a paper I’d written on the Chinese Revolution four years before and said we need to hire him and get him over to her department when there was an opening. Another was that they saw me as one who could hopefully update a curriculum that was currently teaching French kissing and wearing a bikini as a mortal sin.) Oh, my, how prevenient grace works!

But, I digress. I was in my first department meeting of the ten or so teachers, three of whom were priests, two of whom were very old priests. One of these older ones complained vociferously that heresy was occurring in the Science Department in that they were teaching evolution. The other shook his head and said that it was terrible that another teacher was discussing the importance of religious experience as he (the priest) had never had a religious experience in his life (something I’d had on a number of occasions in the previous few years). I’m sure I said to myself some variation of “Dude, we’re not in Kansas anymore.” Either that, or “What in heck have I got myself into?!”

So, all of that aside, what is meant by religious experience, how can we understand it, is it reliable, and what does it have to do with our faith or belief?

I’m going to make some really broad statements here because this is a very complex subject. Back in the day, I read more than a couple of books and who knows how many articles on the topic and have probably spent about a gazillion hours in discussion about it. To compound things, we could easily skid over into Freudian psychoanalysis, biochemistry (I had one professor when I was getting my masters in Theology who raised aloud the question of whether salvation was biochemical or not and this was at a Catholic university but it was also not that long after the 60s) or the radical behaviorism of the anti-free will psychologist B.F. Skinner. In other words, there’s a whole lot of technical debate on the topic but, then again, it’s a pretty important topic when you get down to it.

For starters, is it legitimate for someone to say that he or she has experienced God?

When this question is asked, people will normally pause and seek clarification. After all, typical experience involves our normal sensory processes. We see, hear, feel, taste, touch. Those senses make connections and we process those connections. Hence we “experience” them, often both cognitively and emotionally … while perhaps one of those is stronger than the other.

But, God? Now, that’s a problem. We frequently hear of people who testify that God told them something. I guess that’s an experience, although we can certainly ask what they mean by being “told.” I’ve heard said that, “God has changed my heart.” Whatever a changed heart is, I imagine we can chalk that up to an experience if it’s tied to God. We hear (especially from those practicing more traditional eastern religions) that in meditation on what they might call the Divine, an intense feeling of peace or awareness arrives, sometimes with unbelievable power. The widely popular Transcendental Meditation movement of the 60s and 70s (full disclosure: I was trained in and practiced it for awhile in college) was designed to “lift” us out of this base place and to transport us (transcend) to a higher plane. Extremely experiential. The Self-Realization and Spiritualist movements are centered in religious experience. Most of the pantheistic religions (Hinduism and primitive religions of ancient peoples) are big on experience and promoting practices that emphasize experience.

The modern monotheistic religions, living aside science and skepticism, have often shied away from emphasizing experience, instead promoting practical systems requiring allegiance to sets of precepts. With some very notable and popular exceptions, experience is often viewed skeptically because, of course, it’s tough to prove, proof being a big thing in a world driven by science. Nevertheless, experience is as much a part of reality as any other thing!

Typically, then, religious experience can loosely be described as an apprehension (grasping) of the other, or Other. It is an intersection of sorts with a thing that cannot be described by purely natural language, hence it is with something we can call Supernatural or Transcendent. People described as religious mystics are said to attain a kind of knowledge or awareness not normally available to the regular intellect. They become “absorbed” in a different reality.

Now, while this may seem goofy to many, it is a common thread throughout the history of our species. I have heard it described countless times in conversations, have read about it in most of the major faith traditions and have had my own share of specific experiences, most of which I’ve shared over the years and on these pages. It is no wonder that this is one way people describe believing or knowing that God (or some deity) actually exists.

For those who cannot put a finger on having their own specific experience of a kind of transcendence, it’s hard to actually come to grips with what is happening. And for those who’ve had such experience, it’s common to resort to metaphors and analogies because the thing cannot be easily described in many cases.

Which begs the question, can we understand these things as reliable? We have at one end of the spectrum the skeptic or atheist who pooh poohs these as delusional while at the other end, those who live in the midst of experience as if it’s some kind of a drug. What gives? And, what’s someone who may not have had a powerful experience to make of it all? The stern priest I mentioned previously thought the whole thing more than a little ridiculous (interesting given the substantial … although not mainstream … history within Roman Catholicism of mysticism). We also seem to have so many people on a quest for religious experience that it has fueled a latter day explosion of avenues designed to get us there.

Goodness! We have locations described as particularly “spiritual” where we are told we have a better shot at engaging the Other. We are asked to buy things like crystals and pyramids and to arrange our spaces Feng Shui. The Occult is a big sell these days as is connecting with deceased ancestors, performing magic, finding our Chi, channeling our Chakras, becoming one with the Om. There is a hunger to break out of the mundane (normal, routine, boring) into the exceptional (exciting, wonderful, extraordinary). Is all of this just a craven effort to avoid reality or is a hardwired call we have for something greater than we normally see?

I’m betting on the latter. I’m for the hardwiring.

You see, while I don’t believe that what we can commonly describe as religious experience is necessary for belief, I believe it can be a welcome byproduct and it can be a sign that points us in the right direction. And, here, I must draw a line that will separate me from some others who are engaged in spiritual paths. It is not easy for me to draw this line and I will refrain from being too explicit.

Like most of the rest of humankind, I believe in a supernatural reality. I have a scientific and rational mind and I see absolutely no contradiction, to which a few of my naturist and atheist friends would disagree. I also believe that it’s not only possible to “understand” that this supernatural reality exists but to experience it. Of course, since I claim I have, that’s not a surprise!

The question then arises as to what’s really going on here? Without going into tremendous detail, I think it can be answered by what we think that supernatural reality really is. I’m not kidding or avoiding the question.

Since I believe all of the evidence supports my contention that there is a loving and just, all powerful God (expressed in three persons as Father/Creator, Son and Holy Spirit) and that he/they know me and want me to know him/them, then one way that happens is by actually “experiencing” God while on this side of things (the other side showing up after I depart from this side). Therefore, authentic religious experience is of that God. All other religious experience, while “authentic” in the sense that it may be of the supernatural, is not of and from the God I bow to. That statement will give pause to some and may even seem hostile. I have to be OK with that, however. It is a common refrain these days that “all paths lead to the same point/mountaintop.” I’m sorry, I respect others’ rights to believe that but I don’t, which I hope they will respect as well! The “religious” systems of the world, although most reflect some similarities in some ways, are truly contradictory. You can’t have them all be equally true! And, that’s OK. 🙂

As far as Christianity is concerned, I believe it’s possible to be a “Christian,” one who actually embraces the fundamental tenets, but who would be hard pressed to describe having an experience of God. It’s possible but I would have to ask why that’s the case and isn’t such a Christian missing a huge piece of the whole deal?

Because, when we surrender to God and accept that Jesus is who he says he is, then something remarkable occurs. We are inviting him inside. And, when we make the choice to invite God inside and take over our lives from the things that have previously driven us, the world shifts and I testify that experience flows.

Like with the two men I’ve spoken with in the last couple of days, our experience of God has given us assurance that he is real. While different, each of us believe it’s as real as anything else we know. The two men are career scientists, while I only dabble in it. To them (and me) these experiences are intensely real and line up quite nicely with other “data” which we commonly accept in our daily lives.

I need to say something else about these experiences. For me, and others with whom I’ve spoken, there’s a curious fact that they arrive unbidden. It’s not as if we’ve sat down, closed our eyes, prayed really hard for God to show up and then, wham-o, we’re suffused with some divine or supernatural essence. It just does not seem to work that way … at least with the God I know. (The practitioner of many of the Eastern traditions might disagree as intense meditation has as perhaps its main objective to release one from the illusions of this world in order to merge with the great Other which is all things.)

No, the times I’ve been overwhelmed with an experience of God, in retrospect, I was primed and ready but not necessarily consciously so. Certainly, I was not asking to be overwhelmed, so when it arrived, I was truly shocked. As in shock and awe. Ironically, it was wham-o! My major ones probably lasted a few minutes in real time but were so intense that the reverberations lasted hours and even days and mind-boggling so. While the effects wear off over time, the memory and knowledge remain. They are unlike anything else, truly.

We may call these things “peak experiences” as they would be graphed as a massive spike on the intensity scale of the things to which we pay attention. Which raises an interesting set of questions.

Are we able to “experience” God in ways that are less intense? Is it possible, over time, to raise the bar in a general way on the one hand and on the other hand to raise the frequency?

To which I say to both: Yes.

It has been over a dozen years since my greatest and most profound experience which, by the way, was not the first as I have written before. (Without a doubt, my first was when I was 13 and it blew me away. To say that it was unbidden is an understatement as I had no concept of the divine at that point.) Since then, I have had one other truly peak experience which occurred about eight years ago.

Those aside, there is no question but I am able to see and know God in many, many ways that were unavailable a relatively short time ago. I am aware of his presence in both profound and subtle ways. Not in every waking moment, mind you, as I am a forgetful and neglectful man.

The best way to describe this is to share the lyrics from one of my favorite songs, entitled, Breathe.

This is the air I breathe

This is the air I breathe

Your holy presence living in me

This is my daily bread

This is my daily bread

Your very word spoken to me

And I, I’m desperate for you

And I, I’m lost without you

(These words are repeated in various ways throughout the piece)

When God is like the air we breathe, both fully life-giving and the most natural thing in our life, we are transformed. We leave a world of theology and institutionalized religion. We see, hear and feel things differently. Yes, we still suffer but it’s a different kind of suffering. The simplest way I can describe it is like when Diane looks at my glasses and remarks, “How can you possibly see out of those things? They’re filthy!” And, then I clean them and, voila! I see things with a new clarity that makes me wonder, indeed, how I was functioning with dirty lenses. That, times 100.

So, yes, by surrendering and seeking a deeper relationship with God, we open ourselves to a life of abundance that he promises. I do not mean material abundance but spiritual abundance that is reflected in experience. It is also good to talk about these things and to share with others as we tread forward in our lives, making our way in this world.

God bless.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My brother, Grant, is a very bright guy. He’s also very thoughtful. We share many common characteristics. We are both inquisitive and passionate. We both know that life is best led with purpose. Both of us would be considered by others as articulate, as in able to express ideas with something resembling clarity. We strive to be consistent rather than arbitrary. We both recognize that the world is an incredibly complex place.

We had a very long discussion a couple of days ago on a wide range of topics, although they had a central theme. We each had the chance to ask some questions and were gracious in giving space for response. It is to one line of his questions that gives rise to this piece.

He asked me if my faith made me feel good. Now, given the nature of our dialogue, neither of us expected answers to be simplistic. We were unpacking some pretty deep stuff. Honestly, no one had ever asked me this question … at least put quite that way. I had to think for a second before answering, because I felt that both the question and answer would be loaded. I was actually very glad he asked it.

I wanted to say yes but hesitated because I figured that a quick yes would not be wholly accurate, at least in the way I felt he was asking.

“Does your faith make you feel good?”

There is a common and powerful criticism of the thing most people call religion and that is that people seek a kind of protective cocoon in order to insulate themselves from a harsh reality or to provide some sense of things because life is so chaotic. In other words, we welcome a package of explanations that makes sense of the unknown. This is equally the case from primitive religions to the most rigorous systems of our world’s major faiths. Most of us have heard of Karl Marx’s declaration, when paraphrased, says that religion is the opiate of the masses. In other words, religion is this pacifying and anesthetizing drug used by powerful oppressors to ensure continuation of a false and evil reality. And, to a degree, he certainly had a point.

The “you must embrace that faith in order to feel good” argument against the authenticity of that faith continues to be a powerful one. And, I’m sure that, where there’s smoke there’s usually fire, at least in some cases.

However, let me present a response, some of which I shared in the conversation with my brother and more of which I am able to frame now that I have more time on my own.

But, let’s first turn to two connected statements on the topic by famed Christian thinker, C.S. Lewis. (Shout out to my friend, Geoff, who found these shortly after we briefly talked about the subject early yesterday morning.)

C.S. Lewis: “I didn’t go to religion to make me ‘happy.’ I always knew that a bottle of Port would do that.” And, “If you want a religion to make you really comfortable, I certainly don’t recommend Christianity.”

So, what’s really going on here?

My immediate answer to my brother’s question was a very reserved, “yes.” But, I quickly claimed the right to explain and the subsequent explanation went on something like this:

I had previously said, in our discussion, that there is a fine line (and very close relationship) between the concepts of faith and belief, about which some might be surprised. Some understand belief as more real than faith. As if faith is something hoped for but not verifiable in any rational way. Some would go so far as to say that, by definition, faith is irrational, perhaps illogical. I disagree.

So, when I sought to explain my answer, I said that everyone believes in something. Actually many things. And we tend to feel good about those beliefs. For instance, I believe the sun will rise tomorrow morning and I will be alive to see it. I feel good about that belief. But, here it gets tricky and it was here I tried to unpack it a bit more.

And, that is we need to define what we mean by “good.” No really. This is a pretty big deal so please don’t yell at me for getting down into the weeds too far.

By “good,” do we mean “warm and fuzzy?” Content? Relaxed? Excited? Happy?

Or, do we mean something like, “I’m on solid ground.” “I feel the belief is trustworthy and accurate.”

Now the first set of adjectives leads us in one direction, mostly what we might loosely call emotional. The second group leads us in another direction, what we might loosely call thoughtful.

With that distinction claimed, I quickly admitted that yes, my faith/belief made me feel good. But, I just as quickly followed that up by saying this is true of everyone! If we believe something, we usually have at least a pretty good, if not excellent, set of reasons for our belief. In other words, we “feel” those beliefs are solid “even if they make us uncomfortable.”

On the other hand, I could not immediately admit to warm fuzzies regarding my foundational beliefs (what some would term my faith). I explained that I certainly didn’t arrive at my current perspective on all of reality because I wanted to feel good in the first sense. No, I wanted the whole thing to make sense because try as I might by exploring all possibilities, I was left hollow. My awareness arrived out of a plea from the center of my being. I hadn’t looked around at Christians and said to myself, “Goodness, they all look happy and content, I want to be like them.” (Although that happens to actually be something to think about.)

When the Pharisee and religious leader, Saul, was on his way from Jerusalem to Damascus to slaughter more early followers of Jesus he was not seeking an alternative belief system in order to feel good, nor to be happy. In his case, he was struck down and “reborn” as the Apostle Paul who endured the most terrible pain and hardship for the rest of his life.

Full disclosure: How do I feel about my belief that God is very real, he is very personal, he knows my every thought and action yet still loves me fully and unconditionally, he wants me to know that I belong to him, that there’s nothing I can do to earn his favor, that I am offered the promise to be with him for eternity in a most fascinating and wonderful place, that Jesus is “the” God incarnated as a man, lived without sin, was murdered because he threatened to turn religion on its ear, took upon the sins of all mankind in our (my) place, was fully and bodily resurrected, will both love and judge all of us and only asks one thing of me which is to fully surrender and follow him? Well now. I feel really good about that. As in, I believe it to be more true than anything else I know. And, I know a lot. And, I believe the alternative is not true, although for the most part I respect everyone’s right to believe what they will. This line of thinking will rankle many but what are you going to do?

You bet I’m good with it. Now, I don’t fully understand all of it, of course. Who does? But I’ve seen nothing, absolutely nothing in the last dozen years that indicates that any of this is really false.

Now, and this is a fine point, that doesn’t mean I don’t struggle with my belief. In fact, sometimes the whole Christian story just doesn’t make sense because, of course, in the world’s terms, it absolutely does not make sense. You can’t make this stuff up. One of the most poignant verses in scripture is captured in the Gospel of Mark when the father of a very sick boy says to Jesus, “take pity on us and help us.” Jesus responded with this: “If you can? Everything is possible for one who believes.” To which the distraught father pled, “I do believe! Help me with my unbelief.”

Doubt is a way of life. Certitude is a tough thing to nail down permanently. Unless we relish our pride and stature, are arrogantly self-righteous, when we are alone without the trappings of life that give us affirmation, we can find ourselves doubting. The one who does not admit this is probably fundamentally narcissistic (a form of delusion), has not known defeat or suffering and is probably insufferable to live with. But, this does not mean we won’t shake it off, check ourselves to see if our doubts have cracked the foundation, and get right back to solid ground. I’ve used an easy method to test my beliefs, whether or not doubt decides to come knocking. And, that is, “is there anything about any of the alternatives that make more sense?” This is a very useful thing to hone one’s thinking.

Before concluding, I want to come back to the point C.S. Lewis so adroitly makes. And, it’s specifically about the Christian belief system (or faith or story or however you want to characterize it).

It is certainly not a happy place. It is certainly not a protected place. In fact, it decidedly has nothing directly to do with either happiness or safety. Responding to Jesus’ brief and blunt statement to “Follow me,” as he did to those blue collar fisherman on a simple beach on the shores of the Galilee, requires a blatant act of surrender that only results in turmoil. Following Jesus is nothing short of the wildest ride imaginable. He demands a lot but comparably far less than the world demands and that is a very difficult thing for anyone to understand who has not surrendered. (Which is one reason so many people resist doing so.)

It is a path of both profound joy and profound suffering. Following Jesus is a full time gig. I’m not talking about people who profess to be Christians who show up on Sunday because it’s the thing to do. I’m talking about people who actually take following Jesus into their bones, granting him the authority to do with us as he will. I’ve been at this for a dozen years full time and I’m here to testify that it is hard. Very hard. It is demanding. Very demanding. But, it’s the most wonderful, fulfilling, beautiful and glorious thing imaginable. The cost doesn’t make a dent when compared to the outcome. In that light, it’s then actually quite easy!

Does my faith make me feel good? No. But God does. He has called me to himself and I am wrapped in the most divine and loving arms. When I have felt that more than once in an almost indescribable way, my heart has almost burst from the pain and joy of it.

As I’ve related before, C.S. Lewis’ famous child character asks of Aslan, the Lion/Jesus, “is he safe?” “No,” her companion replies. “He is not safe. But he is good.”

I have purposefully stayed away from getting into the disciplines of epistemology and psychology (both of which I’ve had the opportunity to study) when it comes to knowing and feeling, trying to keep this topic as simple as I can while engaging it deeply and transparently. I hope I’ve made some strides in answering my brother’s excellent question and I hope one or two of you out there might have something to think about.

Blessings,

Brad

 

 

 

 

 

I was in a great discussion the other night. There were nine of us, sitting around, talking about truth and some related small topics. 🙂 This was not my first rodeo on the subject. I can remember more than one bottle of Wild Turkey consumed with my college roommates Mike and Jack as we tackled life’s mysteries well into the night. Over thirty years ago, I challenged my students with the concept in an honors course in political philosophy. And, I was always on the search for it throughout adulthood. Full disclosure: I was probably more than a little smug on occasion as I sought my merit badge in going after the thing. It was, even understatedly, a most worthy quest.

Of course, I’ve written on this subject in one way or another many times. Which means, assuredly, that I’m still drawn to it. As we try to navigate the things of this life, I’m completely convinced that we need to stake our flag on something. Well, in fact, we all do, even if we don’t know it, but if that flag is staked on quicksand, it leads in an interesting direction.

For a time in our discussion, we talked about questions and answers. We were examining a dialogue between two characters, one who embraced a life of inquiry and another who had arrived at the terminus. The one foresaw an endless journey of questions, with no possibility of ultimate arrival. The other found that the ultimate questions had final answers.

Now, I’m a huge proponent of inquiry. In fact, it was probably the single greatest feature of my life as a teacher. To cultivate a desire to inquire in my students was my first objective and it underlay every aspect of my pedagogy. To this day, I receive thanks from students for that gift. I designed inquiry-based models of education even to the degree of restructuring whole areas of a school’s curriculum to ensure its implementation. The well-known “Socratic” method is to follow a question with another question, helping the learner to go deeper and deeper in the search for meaning. In this general framework, there is no end. There is no arrival. There is only the search which, ironically, is the actual answer. The technique has its selling points. Until it doesn’t. I apologize if that seems confusing.

As I mentioned, our group was discussing the dialogue between two characters, men who had gone to school together, entered the professions and matured into later life. One of the men could not understand how the other had become so “narrow minded” late in life as to believe that he had found “the answer.” As the former one made his challenge, he criticized anyone who stated they had found an absolute truth. Shouldn’t everything, in fact, be open to question? Hadn’t they established that very early on in their lives? I can relate.

Today, as I’ve written many times, we are immersed in a collective understanding that maintains truth is what each person believes it to be. In other words, the truth is that there is no truth. This should make us pause.

Time and again, I hear the dogma that truth is what we make it to be. It’s often no more than a response to feeling, as if feelings are the foundation of all things that matter. Good lord, does anyone really believe that? Of course, feelings are extremely important to living a life well-led. But as a matter of trying to understand whether there is actually something that can be conclusively known? Sorry, no.

Once again, I heard from someone the other day that the level of collective anxiety in our youth is sky-rocketing. They are wondering who they really are, which is a fine thing, don’t get me wrong. It’s actually a mighty fine thing. The problem is that they are not getting any answers that stick. It’s like they can grasp at this or that piece of advice (often from those brilliant people who make money entertaining us) but the thing disappears as a tantalizing mirage. It just does not hold up. Yet, we truly value the search. Curious.

Of course, the reason behind all of this is that we’ve thrown out the baby with the bathwater. We become attracted to the promise that the hunger is much better than the feast. Now, I have nothing against being hungry, metaphorically. In a vastly complex world with so much to learn and explore, a hunger for the things unknown is a beautiful piece of being human. We naturally delight in learning. But, and this  should need no drum roll, learning actually results in knowing.

“Ah,” says the skeptic. But, we can never be convinced that the thing we now “know” will turn out to not be true. Or at least, we’ll find out it’s not the entire story. This is a fine argument and well supported by any minimal examination of history.

But, if nothing can be ultimately known and the only true thing is that we should just continue to search, doesn’t everything systematically just fall apart? In that case there would be nothing inherently wrong with things 99% of us would consider abhorrent to the extreme. Those would only be culturally-determined and biased conclusions. We should, of course, not call that person or thing evil. That only exposes our prejudice. And prejudice is a bad thing. Or, is it? Who is to know?

Another criticism by the skeptic is that it’s the height of arrogance for someone to say that they’ve found or discovered an ultimate truth. Since there can be no such thing, such a claim exposes one’s sense of superiority and that is a cardinal sin in a worldview that elevates equality of all things to primacy. Whoops! Such circular logic only exposes the fallacy of such an argument. But, I need to not stop there because arrogance is, indeed, a problem.

I’m much more of a mind to speak boldly of truth but to do so with a humility in knowing that the truth is that the meek shall inherit. Think about that. It is one of the many paradoxes of the Gospel.

As we move to conclude this, I’m led to think about a beautiful painting or piece of music. Hopefully, each of us has encountered such a thing. (If not, we might want to question, why not?) There is a print hanging on one of our walls. It is beautiful in more ways that I can simply describe. I hope someday to see the larger than life version hanging in The Hermitage museum in St. Petersburg. Or my mind goes to this exquisite violin concerto, which I’ve heard more times than I can remember. Neither the painting nor the concerto grow old. They were absolutely beautiful the first time I saw or heard each one. I knew their beauty intimately. It will never be possible for me to denounce their beauty. In doing so, I would have to renounce all that I believe to be true about me, my life, and my purpose for being here. However, I am refreshed and renewed when I engage them again. In fact, I learn more about them the more I am engaged with them. This is humbling. Just because I know something to be true does not mean I have arrived at the end. It’s just the opposite. In fact, I’ve arrived at the beginning. In a sense, I’ve walked through a door that cannot be shut behind me. And this is the difference.

A search or an inquiry which does not expect a destination, is just a grasping at straws. Oh, we can argue that we’re still growing and each piece of growth is just the arrival at a smaller truth before we move on. Here, the satisfaction or contentment is not in the knowing, it’s in the searching. Since we can never completely know, we are content to keep searching until our last breath.

Well, that’s a choice. If there is nothing to be definitively known, then go at it. However, if there is something that can be definitively known and that thing provides ultimate meaning to everything, then our choice is whether or not to seek that thing with the expectation that we will find it. That is wholly different. If we seek something with the expectation that we will find it, rather than with the expectation that we will never find a thing of ultimate meaning, then we have hope. And, we might just be surprised when that thing suddenly appears.

Some would rather stumble around in the dark either satisfied with that state or content with kicking the can down the road and wait and see what happens. A reasonable alternative is to ask what is really true, with the hope and even expectation that it can be found.

While ultimate truth (or answers) is falling out of favor, we might just want to rethink that. I for one, humbly kneel at the foot of the answer. Praise God.

 

 

 

 

I’m no expert on culture. However, I am both an observer and a purveyor of the thing. It’s certainly a big thing, like economics, politics or religion. It’s a thing that surrounds us, defines us, and invades us. It’s about customs, our relationships and institutions. It underscores so much of what we think, how we behave and how we look at the world and one another. Of course, culture is not a static thing as it is ever evolving. On the other hand, being a humanly constructed thing, there are things about culture that remain unchanging as, in fact, there are things about us that remain unchanged.

I expect there was a time not all that long ago, in relative terms, where people did not think a whole lot about culture. They went about their lives in a kind of passive acceptance that this is just the way things were or were supposed to be. A German goldsmith by the name of Johannes Gutenberg sort of busted that wide open around 1440 AD when he invented movable type … what we know as a printing press. Voila!: The European Renaissance and then we were off to the races. Massive upheavals followed, including revolutions in science, religion, economics and politics. And, of course, culture.

With communication democratized, individual opinions suddenly mattered, sometimes in a very big way. Finding their voice, citizens of the western world became instant commentators. Pre-Gutenberg, the likes of Benjamin Franklin and Voltaire (cultural critics both), among countless others, would have disappeared into history.

Fast forward to Gutenberg’s 20^th century twin, the silicon microchip, and we have another massive reorientation underway, with similar tectonic shifts in science, religion, economics and politics. And, of course, culture.

Please excuse my long contextualization involving history. Can’t quite shake the DNA.

All of this brings me back to a topic I’ve certainly touched on in many ways, although maybe not directly in the sense I’d like to today.

We are a tribal species and some commentators will argue that it’s this tribal nature that is most definitive of how we construct our societies. We seek relationships with those who share our values, principles and customs and we shy away from (or fear or even abhor) those who don’t. We commonly make judgments about the kind of art or institutions or means of expression we think are valuable or threatening. We do this all of the time, both consciously and unconsciously. Can’t help it. Some of us try to adapt and find out that adaptation is not all that bad in some circumstances. On the other hand, we find adaptation to some things extremely undesirable. And, some people plain want to turn back the clock entirely.

For instance (and in the cause of full disclosure), I can’t much stand 20^th century “classical” music or much of what we can loosely call “modern art.” Now, before I’m called a complete snob, I’d like to put out that I’m not an absolutist on this. There are a number of clear exceptions. But, as a whole, give me Mozart over Shostakovich or Sibelius. Give me Rembrandt over Picasso. And, those are the modern artists who I don’t find ultimately debasing (well, I may have to step back on that with some of Picasso’s work.) What’s the distinction and what does this have to do with the point I have yet to make?

It all comes down to value … as in, what we value most dearly. What are the guiding principles that govern our lives; the way we seek to live out the short time we’re here? To cut to the chase, our expression, whether it be in art or language or the institutions we create to frame and govern our societies, is the window into who we are and what we value as important.

Expression is a hard thing to think about because it has so many layers. We may value one thing but find ourselves expressing ourselves (behaving) quite differently. We may think we are the one defining how best to behave but discover that we are merely conforming to social influences and pressure for all sorts of reasons. After awhile, we may look back and wonder where the change began, if we wonder at all.

It will come as no surprise but I believe we are created with a purpose. (Well, many purposes but they’re all connected under a simple umbrella.) It’s that purpose that gives rise to our values and guiding principles, which should define our expression and the things we hold dear.

A person who seeks to lift up others each day … to help alleviate suffering in their neighbors’ lives, who encourages others on a regular basis, acts lovingly when it’s a hard thing to do, wakes up with a sense of hope even when things appear dismal, behaves very different from one who:

Seeks to judge others every day for their perceived faults and inadequacies, chooses to first look at what is wrong, rather than what is right, shouts rather than embraces, gravitates to violence rather than peace, to deceit and self-promotion rather than integrity and selfless giving. This is the one who is at home with debasing, rather than uplifting, one who enjoys shocking others rather than consoling them and treating them with kindness and compassion.

Some will examine our “western” culture today and applaud it. We live with far less constraints than ever before in the history of our species. We are free to behave publicly in ways that would have been unimaginable not that long ago. While the coarseness that is a result was always a feature of human society (Caligula, anyone?), we are witnessing its extension seemingly everywhere. For this aging person, it’s depressing.

I bemoan the degradation of the thing we used to call good manners. Of natural respect for others. Of deference. Of civil language. So much now has to be “sensational,” as in powerfully tapping into our senses, beating at us for attention. How much time and opportunity are we given for reflection about the things we value the most and where that sense of value comes from? Our culture is now evolving at hyper-speed, seemingly an inevitable thing.

What to do? It seems everywhere I gaze I see criticism. And the criticism is quite frequently fueled by fear, anger and resentment. With so many platforms by which these sentiments can be delivered, there is constant competition for air time, bandwidth or reader volume. Furthermore, with attention spans diminishing, there is a corresponding need to intensify the volume, so as to be heard. And that accelerates the push to embrace the more unseemly side of who we are.

What if our first inclination is to lift up rather than tear down? Admittedly, this can be very tough. Lord knows, I’m opinionated and decidedly unhappy at much I see. With the heart torn and anger close to the surface, it’s easy to press aside inclinations to be positive and uplifting. Who among us does not have a base side to our nature? Seeing no hands, we can rest assured we’re part of a very large club. So, what to do?

For starters, I’ll let the apostle Paul share some simple yet sage advice. In a letter to the church in Ephesus, which is now in modern day Turkey, he writes in Ephesians 4:29 “Do not let unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it might benefit those who listen.”

Let us all meditate on what he could mean by “unwholesome talk” and what kind of talk would be “helpful for building others us according to their needs.”

Is expletive-laden language wholesome? Does it help us to become better than we are? Does it reflect respect for those around us? What does it mean to be “whole” anyway? What kind of person is one who has been “built up according to their needs?” What do people “need,” actually? Is our expression more of our own need to be recognized, even if it’s done intrusively? Or, rather, should our expression be other-centered, with an eye to helping to bring others out of suffering or restrictive places? Or, to just pay attention that there is a person next to us, probably a stranger, who could use a smile and a kind word? Are we quick to pass along the demeaning tidbit, rather than to seek the joyful one?

I get that bad stuff, in many cases, needs to be exposed. Of that, I’m a fan. However, in the rush to expose the bad (the nature of which is certainly divisive), we lose sight of the good. It beats us down and robs us of some of the wonderful things that make us human. It robs us of our sense of purpose. We are not mere animals, seeking food and procreation before we die. We are creative beings, with remarkable potential. Whether we use that potential to help lift ourselves out of the gutter or bring the gutter all around us is, I think, worth pondering about.

I am both product and designer of our culture. I am free to make a choice. How I choose to express myself will reflect the choice I make. I can make a difference, no matter how small. I need plenty of help and reminders but it’s reassuring to look back and see even the most modest of changes. Thank God.

It would be a hard heart, indeed, that is not suffering these days. This would be a heart hidden from the world and the immense suffering in it. Perhaps, in the pursuit of that elusive thing we call happiness, such a heart is given temporary reprieve. But it never lasts and the next defeat of whatever stripe is waiting just around the corner. Dark? Yes. But not the whole story by any means.

We cannot be surprised when terrible things happen. Shocked, of course. But, not really surprised if we’ve been paying attention to our species from time immemorial. We thirst and cry for justice and peace only to be demoralized when they prove fleeting. We search for answers, for antidotes to the things that seem so dreadfully inconsistent with the values we hold dear. We become very good at being angry or contemptuous or, perhaps, insular or judgmental. We wonder why it has to be so hard. Can’t humanity just improve? It seems such a reasonable request.

We look around and it’s hard to deny that, in comparative fashion, global humanity is improving materially. Relative poverty is decreasing, although it has a long way to go. Opportunities for material gain are on the rise as is life expectancy in many societies. Coupled with this material improvement is the revolution in technology and information transfer, allowing people to be connected, at least virtually, like never before.

But, to be honest, WE aren’t changing all that much. For every bright Star Trek prophesy, there are multiple ones of dark dystopia, calling out a very disturbing truth of what makes us tick. In all honesty, though, these inclinations seem frequently matched and even outdone by some remarkable reservoir of good that burst forth in the most trying of times.

So, we are in this seesaw life of ups and downs and I feel for the person who expects that to end.

Are there times when you feel crushed? Where the stomach is tight and seems to be producing chemicals that bleed anxiety into our body? Where heartache is really the heart aching? When joy is a thing too far out of reach to contemplate?

A friend and I occasionally ask one another, “What is the state of your soul?” It is to the seesaw state of our life that such a question is directed.

We sang a hymn this morning that is one of my favorites. A hymn is a prayer put to music, frequently both voice and instrument. I lived most of my life without hymns. Truth be told, if you’d have asked me to describe them, I might have conjured up a visual from some movie or TV show set in the 19^th century American West. Small town. Small church with a steeple just off of the main street. Men dressed formally. Women in bonnets. All sitting pretty rigidly while singing something written in past centuries. Not anything relevant to my modern life or the things that clamored for my attention.

Oh, how things have changed. Diane and I don’t attend Sunday services at a church that is all that formal … we call the music contemporary which means there is no formal robed choir. No organ. Instead, we have guitars, drums, keyboards and the occasional strings and brass or woodwinds. We sing songs that are popular on Christian radio and songs of which we are unfamiliar. We also sing hymns, something I now love. For me, singing a hymn is expressing a deep truth and lifting that truth outwards and upwards. It can be both a plea and a praise. Singing a hymn is a point in our life where we connect our heads with our hearts and join with friends and strangers in one voice. For a moment or slightly longer, we set aside our regular desires and concerns and lay ourselves open before God. To be so joined is a blessing difficult to describe.

One of the four songs we sang this morning is a very familiar piece. I used to play it in my car on a relatively consistent basis driving to or from an especially challenging day at work, when strife was sometimes commonplace … when despite my best efforts, it was hard to set aside the pressures of the job, the demands for my attention, the anxieties about making a mistake when lives seemed to be at stake.

Now, I play it sometimes when I sit or hike alone, helping me to bring order from disorder. Meaning out of chaos. Truth from deceit.

It is entitled, Be Still My Soul and I especially like a lesser known version sung by David Acton. I will try to include both the lyrics and a link to the audio version if you’re interested.

You see, I do believe there is an antidote and it comes in many forms, with one common denominator. The antidote is not an exit strategy. It is not a means of escaping the suffering around us, nor of avoiding our responsibility to seek its ending wherever we see it. Instead, the antidote is a recalibration of everything we know, which may seem absurd to some and at least disorienting to many others. We can choose to avoid it for whatever reason or we can turn towards it and the only thing we need to do is ask.

Be Still My Soul

Be still my soul, the Lord is on thy side.

Stand calm within, the storm of grief and pain.

Trust in thy God to order and provide.

Through every change, his faithful light remains.

Be still my soul, the restful peace within.

Through trying times, leads to a joyful end.

 

Be still my soul, the wind and waves shall know,

The voice who rules them when he dwelt below.

Torment and doubt have slipped into the past.

All dark and mysteries shall shine at last.

His burning sun shall melt the ice of fear.

Lift up your heart, his soothing voice to hear.

 

Be still my soul, when light you cannot see.

And trembling skies speak to the fear in thee.

The face of God illuminates the night.

Unending peace and trusting perfect light.

Be still my soul, when tears fall from above.

You are divine, eternally in love.

 

 

Like all of you, I awoke this morning to the news of the slaughter of innocents. Apparently, a lone man with a machine gun wrought devastation upon hundreds, killing more than any mass murderer in modern American history. It was the kind of news that tightened the chest and grieved the heart. While I am one who spends time with history and perspective, so this kind of thing can be catalogued with all of the others like it, it still stops me in my tracks. My mind struggled in those early moments to grasp ahold of it, seeing it ripple out in waves through the lives of the victims, their families, their community and all those who are so viscerally repulsed. I chose not to immediately go to details, fearing among other things that I would be faced with all sorts of explanations, some of which would be linked with this or that political cause.

As my heart hurt, my mind went to that elusive but ever-present source that we can call evil.

I have written about this before and I have pondered the nature of evil time and again over the years. People far smarter and wiser than I have offered up all sorts of explanations, many of which I’ve found valuable as I try to make sense of it all.

The question of evil is so challenging that some large belief systems don’t even engage it. Many people don’t even like the word. Well, perhaps. I imagine those who don’t like the word have never confronted it directly, face to face, in a way that will make one’s hair stand on end while a sense of cold and dread enters through the pores.

In other words, I think that there are many with modern sensibilities who treat evil as a kind of theoretical thing as in, “I’d know it if I saw it but I can’t say as I really understand it.”

To be honest, the problem of evil is one of the greatest stumbling blocks to belief in the Christian worldview. Or, for that matter, belief in any kind of a God who is at least partially or fully loving or benevolent. And, that’s quite understandable.

If we dismiss the supernatural, then what we might term evil, like the events of last night, are chalked up to a pure basis in psychology. In keeping with that, the psychology behind the act is a function of all sorts of things, much or most of which is socially constructed. (The term social construction has been around for decades now … one of the most difficult books I ever read was not a long one but dense as dense can be. It was entitled The Social Construction of Reality and sorely tested my mind and will in graduate school. It basically means that we are to a very large degree the product of our environment and the many social forces that frame that environment.) Ultimately, with some great validity, this line of thinking says that all sorts of humanly-generated factors led to the murderer’s heinous act. Who knows yet? Parental treatment? Rejection by peers? Ill-mannered bosses? Political or religious idealism? All of these can and have been contributing forces to acts such as occurred last night.

But, that’s if we dismiss the supernatural. Unfortunately, to dismiss the supernatural is to say that nature is moral. There is justice in nature. Try as I might, I can’t make that one work. Trees, rocks, birds, plankton, asteroids, planets and so forth don’t have a morality. I’d be pleased to listen to those who disagree.

Which leaves us with two choices. We can believe that there is no supernatural and that this thing that occurred was very bad, carried out by a depraved individual. I suspect he would say he was not depraved and I imagine there are many others who cheer his actions. They would say he was justified by some logic that others would find repulsive. But, in that light, it could not be called evil. Because evil implies a standard that rises above the psychology or social construction. It stands all on its own. Evil transcends bad. Everyone is free to believe this.

The other choice is that Evil is a powerful force, an intelligent force, that seeks to invade our sense of things, twist our minds and hearts and acts in the interest of destroying what it means to be human. We are also free to believe this.

I choose to believe that Evil went to the bank last night and in a burst of fire and metal wreaked havoc on what is good and right in this life. As we mourn the lights that were extinguished, we reach out to the light that brings life.